


The Story So Far

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Books, Friendship, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of James's favourite book, and how he returns to it over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_" 'I have come a long way to find you. I have faced pain and danger and hunger and cold, and now I stand with you in the Mists of Death. Either you will come home with me or I will move further into the Mists with you, but I will never leave you again.' "--The Mists of Death_ by Zelah Timothy

***

He found the book when he was thirteen years old--a ten-year-old paperback fantasy novel carelessly shelved in the wrong section of the shop. The image on the cover didn't appeal, but the title _The Mists of Death_ seemed interesting. As the book wasn't new, James could pay for it with his pocket money, and he did.

That night, he began reading it and couldn't put it down. It was the story of Nacol and Marek, two friends who grew up together and were close all their lives, until one day, Marek vanished. As the best fantasy heroes did, Nacol then went on a quest to save her friend.

James raced through the pages, nearly holding his breath. Would Nacol find her friend? If she did, what then? Could Marek be saved? In the end, Nacol reached the elusive Mists of Death and found Marek within. Because she was brave and willing to sacrifice herself, both she and Marek were released from the Mists to live long, happy lives.

When James reached the end, he went back to the beginning again, this time imagining himself as the brave Nacol, fighting to save someone dear to him. There were a few people he could think of he might like to rescue.

The book became a touchstone for James throughout the years. When worried about revising for his A levels, he reread the book. While struggling with ancient Greek at university, he reread the book. After leaving the seminary and panicking about his future, he reread the book. Rereading was like visiting old friends, returning to the characters and adventures he now knew almost by heart. And every time he returned to it, he found something new that he hadn't seen before, something to give him hope.

But James also found, over time, that the character he'd dreamed of being had changed. While he'd originally wanted to be Nacol, ready to face danger and rescue his best friend, he now found himself identifying a bit more with Marek. As a child, he had assumed unthinkingly that he had friends who would face dangers for him, and he for them. As an adult, he learned how rare it was to have even one friend like that, and that people he'd thought of as friends for much of his life had not necessarily thought the same of him.

James wanted someone to think he was worth fighting for…worth saving.

Lewis was having a drink at James's flat when he noticed the book. " _The Mists of Death_? Don't think I've heard of that one."

"It's an adventure story," James said, resisting the urge to describe the plot and characters to Lewis in minute detail. "One of my favourites. You can borrow it if you like." He wouldn't have offered to lend it to anyone but Lewis, but he knew Lewis would understand his understatement about the book being his favourite.

Lewis did. "You sure?"

James nodded. He knew Lewis, who was aware that the book was precious to James, would be careful.

"Right," Lewis said, pocketing the book. "Thanks."

As they were working on a particularly difficult case, thoughts of the book left James's mind…until one day not long after they'd solved the case, when Lewis arrived at James's door.

"I brought these," Lewis said, holding up a few bottles of beer with one hand. "And this." He handed James _The Mists of Death._

"Thank you," James said, resisting the urge to hug the book to his chest and call it 'my precious'. "Come in."

They'd had a few beers apiece before Lewis spoke at all. "I liked it. The book."

"Good."

"I can see why you like it. That last scene, when they're in the mist…" Lewis shook his head.

"Yeah."

Lewis stared into space for a minute, then said, "Either you'll come home with me, or I'll stay in the mists with you, but I'll never leave you again."

James nodded. "That's the best bit."

"For me too," Lewis said. "It's what we'd do for people we care about, isn't it?"

"I've always hoped so," James said, remembering how he used to imagine himself on Nacol's quest.

"It is." Lewis's fingertips hesitantly brushed the back of James's hand.

The last time James had taken someone's hand for comfort, he had misjudged his potential source of comfort badly, and had paid for it. But this was different. He knew Lewis…trusted him…would have gone searching for him had he vanished, just as he knew Lewis would've done for him. James turned his hand over and held Lewis's in his. 

Lewis had found him in the mists after all.


	2. Chapter 2

James had just finished questioning Professor Clarke, a potential witness to the crime he and Lewis were investigating, when she went to procure something from her bookshelf. James surveyed the bookshelf absentmindedly…and then froze when he saw several copies of a book he knew…oh, very well.

"You're a fan of _The Mists of Death_ ," James said.

Professor Clarke chuckled. "After a fashion. Why? Are you?"

James nodded. "It's not something I advertise very often."

"No, well, it wasn't very financially successful, but it was the book I needed to write at the time," Professor Clarke said.

It took James a moment to understand, but when he did, he faced her, stunned. "You _wrote_ it?"

"Surely you knew someone must have," Professor Clarke said.

"Yes, but…I…" He stared at her, aware that he must look a numpty but unable to remedy that at the moment.

Her expression softened. "It meant something to you as well, didn't it? The book?"

James nodded. He couldn't explain…not to a stranger…but somehow she knew. She understood.

Professor Clarke took a copy from her shelf. "I wrote it when I lost my son. I would have done anything to get him back, so I suppose there's more than a bit of me in Nacol." She scribbled a message on the title page of the book, then handed it to James. "Here."

The copy she'd given him was pristine, a first edition that had barely been opened. James looked at it reverently. "You want me to have it?"

"I can think of no one for whom it would be more meaningful," Professor Clarke said. "Please. Take it."

James left clutching the book to his chest and didn't think to check the inscription until he was nearly home, at which point, he opened the book and read what Professor Clarke had written.

_To James--May your Marek be with you always. Emilia Clarke, AKA "Zelah Timothy"_

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Mists of Death_ and its author are entirely fictional creations.


End file.
